


Go

by chellerrific



Category: Bleach
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-31
Updated: 2013-05-31
Packaged: 2017-12-13 12:17:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/824232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chellerrific/pseuds/chellerrific
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not all scars are visible.</p>
            </blockquote>





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**Author's Note:**

> There is a Shinji-and-Momo shaped hole in my heart so I wanted to try this on for size, for funsies.
> 
> As I know nothing about the game in question, I have relied on the guiding hand of Wikipedia to, I hope, keep me from any obvious mistakes in my deliberate vagueness.
> 
> I’m exceedingly proud of the triple-entendre of the title, though have probably lessened it by pointing it out, like an observer effect of wit. Oh the cleverness of… I forget the rest.

She sat across the board from him, small calloused hand closed around a black stone as she considered her next move.

“I’m going to be frank with you,” he said, his gaze and voice level, knowing she attended him with as much precision as she did the Go board. “And I want you to be frank with me. I know that’s a lot to ask of anyone, to be open with someone you barely know—never mind after what you’ve been through.”

Her eyes flitted up to his briefly, then back down to the board. Her words were measured, but he was beyond giving any consideration to the suggestion she might be weak. Any caution on her part was a smart move. “I have no intention of deceiving you, Captain Hirako.” She placed the stone in her hand on the board.

“I never thought you did.” _Incapable of guile_ was a more accurate reflection of his exact thoughts, but this would do. “Aizen hurt a lot of people, few more than you.” He put down a white stone of his own.

She didn’t even flinch at the mention of her former superior’s name; that was good. When he’d first met her, her eyes were still haunted. The look was not dissimilar to ones he’d seen in the eyes of his masked family in the early days of their exile. He didn’t want her to deal with the shadows inside by becoming hard, though. Her softness—not weakness, but softness of voice and heart, a heart that called out to others and drew them inexorably in, a heart that had been pierced twice by coldest steel wielded by those she loved and trusted most—her softness was her greatest strength, even more than her savage cunning. Aizen had no right to take that softness away, to abuse and extinguish that light.

“My suffering was temporary, and I don’t remember much of it.”

“Lieutenant Hinamori,” he admonished, “I thought we agreed to be frank with one another.”

“I’m not being disingenuous, sir. I was unconscious and under the care of the Fourth Division. I didn’t have to spend a century a condemned man in exile.” She watched him as she spoke, unsure if her words crossed any lines.

They didn’t. “You and I both know that the damage Aizen did to you was not just with swords. It wasn’t confined to a couple instances of near-fatal violence, though that would certainly be more than enough for any one person to bear.”

She didn’t speak, only listened and continued their game. Stones added, stones taken away, a steady mental and tactile anchor to hold her in place.

“I had seven others with me when he chose to tear me down. Seven rocks, seven souls who shared my fate. We lost nearly everything, but we always had each other. I don’t have any reservations about telling you that that was everything to us. Even Kensei—Captain Muguruma would say the same, and you’d think a century stuck in Mashiro’s company would be a special kind of purgatory for him.”

The corner of her mouth quirked up just a fraction. “That’s not a very nice thing to say.”

“Give it time. You don’t know Mashiro very well yet.” He allowed a small smile of his own. “But I wouldn’t have wanted to do it without her, or any of the others. Which is saying something, given the number of broken bones I suffered at Hiyori’s hands, feet, and sandals.” He paused to run a hand from one eye down his cheek, as if massaging a phantom pain away. “Something powerful and good came out of what happened to us. You… you didn’t have anyone to share the load. That makes it exponentially heavier.”

She hesitated, her hand hovering just above the board. After a brief pause, she made her move with certainty. “I have friends.”

“Yes, you do. They’re going to be what gets you through this. But they’ll never truly understand. Nor will I, though I flatter myself I come closer than most.”

“Did you see it coming? Sir.”

She was deflecting, but he let her. This was about showing her he was someone she could trust, after all. “Yes and no. Did I predict this?” He summoned his mask, the dark part of his soul that had nearly consumed him.

She gazed at it, at him, steadily.

“No.” He dismissed it again, though of course it was always with him, regardless of whether he was wearing it or not. “I have to admit, that came out of left field for me. I like to think it would have for most anyone, but that’s cold comfort, isn’t it? I knew Aizen was up to something. I knew he was slime and I knew he was dangerous. I can’t say I guessed at the full extent of his depravity, though. It’s hard not to blame myself, no matter how much blame may or may not be deserved.”

“I’m sure none of the other Visoreds blame you.”

The fact that she rose to his defense so readily touched him. As he knew, the core of her soul was something Aizen was not capable of destroying. “They don’t, usually; not anymore, anyway. But I was talking about you.”

The sight still haunted him: the moment the illusion shattered and the one before them impaled on that boy’s sword was this thoroughly innocent and already terribly damaged girl who now sat across from him, barely whole. It was not a sight he or the others who’d unwittingly played a role in that terrible instant were likely to ever forget. And it wasn’t even the half of her suffering.

His tone turned dismissive. “Of course, I can always pass the buck to that Kisuke, if I want. And I don’t think anyone would argue with me fingering the Central 46 for their role, in all their infinite witlessness and terrible judgment, may they not rest in peace.”

“I don’t blame you.”

“You blame yourself.”

There was a pause. Her hand shook despite her best efforts. “He chose me because I was a weak fool.” Her voice had lost a measure of its steadiness, and her eyes were damp. She held as much of it in as she could; he could almost see the force of will it took.

“He chose you because you were strong enough to be valuable to him, loyal enough to follow him, and beloved enough to inspire irrational actions in others. These aren’t indictments of you. They’re good qualities you possess that he twisted because he's a twisted bastard.”

She heard but he could not say if she listened. “Why… did he choose you?”

He laughed then, in spite of the situation. “Because I’m cagey and mistrustful. The opposite reasons, really. Much less of a ringing character endorsement, I’m afraid, but it’s something I’ve learned to live with. You’d be surprised what you can come to accept given enough time.”

She clenched her hands together. “I—I don’t think that’s it at all, sir!”

He had seen this hidden fire in her before, but seeing it now surprised him nonetheless. “Hm?”

“I think it’s because—because you have a good heart, and he knew he couldn't touch that. He knew that you would always oppose him, no matter what, and he was afraid of that.”

He felt warmed inside. She had that effect on others. He understood why Aizen had used her in that precise way he had: how could anyone not be moved by her? “Well. You said it, not me. I—”

He paused, getting a good look at the board. She had somehow managed to completely back him into a corner, even when her mind had to be in some very dark places. He broke into laughter, full and real. “My, my. Between the two of us, I wonder who is the truly cagey one?”

She looked back at him evenly, not all of the innocence in her gaze genuine. “Sir?”

“I concede. This game is yours. I’m going to insist on a rematch, and since I’m your captain, you can’t refuse me. But something else first.” He picked up his zanpakuto, sealed and sheathed, and laid it across the table, careful not to make a mess of the game pieces. “This is Sakanade. It’s time you two were formally introduced.”


End file.
